After
by kelhome
Summary: The apocalypse has been averted. Dean wakes up and Sam is gone.
1. Chapter 1

Dean woke up achy and disoriented. He tried to focus and remember where the hell he was. Michael was out of him, so that must mean things worked out. How long had he been out of it? He wasn't sure how long Michael had ridden him. He just hoped the fact that he was himself again meant the apocalypse was over, or averted, or fixed or what-the-hell-ever. He sat up, looked around. _Bobby's guest room. Okay. I can deal with that._

He stood, and his legs were unsteady. He grabbed at the window frame next to the bed. _At least the angel kept his promise and didn't leave me a friggin' vegetable. _His head was pounding. He rode through a wave of dizziness. He needed water. And to see Sam. After that, he could figure the rest out. As he moved down the hall, he wondered how things stood between him and Sam. To say that Sam was unhappy with Dean's decision to say 'yes' to Michael was like saying lava was tepid. The last they had spoken Sam had begged him to change his mind.

"_Team Free Will, Dean. Remember that? We aren't going to let angels use us for their family feud? Any of this ringing a bell?"_

"_Sam, Lucifer is on a world-destroying rampage. Michael is the only one who can kill him, and only if he has me as his vessel. Full power, or whatever."_

_Sam nodded. "So, you sacrifice everything. Again. And, I stand on the sideline, again, and just watch you give yourself up? Well, that is one hell of a plan, Dean."_

_And, what could Dean say to that? Sam was right. Dean was being a first class hypocrite, no mistake. But, he didn't see a lot of choices, here. "Listen, Sam, I am not thrilled about this. But, Michael promised he would split as soon as it was done. All you have to do is stay away from Lucifer until it's over."_

_Sam had looked at him for what felt like an hour, but had probably been more like 10 seconds. "Yeah. That's all I have to do. Stay hidden, while you surrender for the good of the world. That's awesome."_

_Dean had felt anger flash through him. "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you pissed that you don't have a bigger role to play? You want to be a hero, is that it?"_

_Sam had shaken his head slowly. "No, Dean. I don't want to be a hero. I just don't want to lose you to some big, save-the-world sacrifice again. And, there's nothing I can do to help you, except watch it happen. So, yeah, excuse me for not dancing a god damn jig."_

_Frankly, Dean didn't have time to deal with Sam and his emo bullshit. Time was short. Lucifer was breathing down earth's neck, and Dean had to go._

"_This is gonna work, Sam. Just, stay out of the way, would you?"_

_Sam looked at him, didn't say anything for a long time. "Yeah, Dean. I'll stay out of the way. Don't worry." _

_And then, Sam shocked the hell out him by walking across the motel room and wrapping his long ass arms around Dean. "You are a reckless son of a bitch."_

_Dean let himself feel it for just a moment. Sam's love, his own fear, the hugeness of what was about to happen. He put his head against Sam's shoulder and tightened his arms. "I prefer 'maverick adventurer.'" Dean let it go on about two more seconds, then stepped back. "Now, get the hell out of here."_

_Sam had turned and left._

That was that last time Dean had seen him.

_Wait. Was it? No…there was something else…_Something was tickling at Dean's brain. Sam and…something big. But he couldn't quite grasp what it was. Maybe Bobby or Sam would know.

Downstairs, Bobby was sitting at his kitchen table, writing in a notebook. He heard Dean's footsteps and stood up. "Hey, boy. How are you feelin'?"

Dean just stared.

Bobby looked at him, and then, down at his legs. His _functioning _legs. "Ah, yeah, a little gift from Castiel. After…well, _after_."

Dean tried to shake his head loose from the lethargy and fog he'd been floating in for the last little while. "How long has it been?"

"About three days since you got free of Michael, about a week since Lucifer was put down."

Dean raised a brow. "Wow. A lot has happened, huh?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dean. A lot has happened." He pulled out a chair. "Sit. I'll get you some coffee."

Dean sat.

Bobby put a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. Dean looked up at Bobby. "So, you're feelin' okay?"

Bobby put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed gently. "I'm good, Dean."

Dean nodded, took a sip of coffee. "Where's Sam?"

Expecting a casual, 'he'll be back soon,' or 'out getting supplies,' or something, Dean's heart kicked up at the silence that met his question.

Bobby released a long sigh and sat back down at the table. "What do you remember?"

Dean spread his hands. "It's a simple question, Bobby. Where is Sam?"

Bobby rubbed a hand down his face. He looked older. Spent and tired. Dean's tension meter rose to Defcon 3. Something was off, here. Bobby took a sip of his coffee. "Sam took off just after you agreed to host Michael. Haven't seen him since. I heard some things, but…"

"You heard what? Sam didn't say 'yes' to Lucifer, right?"

Castiel's voice came from just behind Dean. "He did not say 'yes.'"

Dean spun around. The angel looked rested, healthier. There was a power to his presence again. He seemed more like an 'angel of the Lord' now, and less like the rumpled accountant they'd been working with the last couple of months. "Cas. What happened?"

Castiel gave one of his penetrating stares. It lasted about ten seconds longer than Dean's patience. Dean slammed his hand down on Bobby's table, making the cups and random items strewn on it jump. "I'd like some god damned answers, and I'd like 'em right the hell now!"

Castiel tilted his head. "Do you remember anything after Michael entered?"

Dean's brows went up. "What? No. Nothing. He…" But, there was something. Something that he'd seen or felt, even through the angel's overwhelming presence. In a disjointed flash, he saw something, tried to remember.

_Sam, strung up in chains, facing away from him. His brother's arms and back were a bloody mess. Lucifer, in a ghoulish, practically decomposing version of that poor guy Nick, was dragging a red-tipped, smoking bar of iron over Sam's back and laughing. Sam was screaming? _

Dean's head was pounding. He looked up at Castiel, then Bobby. "Did Lucifer find Sam?"

Bobby looked away, closed his eyes.

Castiel met his eyes. "Yes. But, that ended up being how Michael was able to track him down. Lucifer had Sam for a couple of days. Some other angels found him and summoned Michael. He shouldn't have stayed in one place so long, but he was determined to have Sam as his vessel for the final battle. It was a decision that cost him his time on earth."

Dean tried to focus on the images he'd seen through Michael's presence. It was all pretty disjointed. But, he remembered hearing Michael, using Dean's voice, addressing Lucifer. He didn't remember specifics. Just, angry words flying back and forth and then a surge of power that shut him out completely. What Dean remembered before things went black, was seeing Sam. He hanging by chains, slowly spinning…until Dean had seen his face. Lucifer was holding a bloody bowie knife, and most of Sam's stomach was ripped open behind him.

_Sam wasn't moving, or screaming, or making any noises._

Sitting at Bobby's kitchen table, Dean closed his eyes. He tried to reach past the sight of Sam hanging, bloody, in chains as Michael and Lucifer jawed at each other. There was nothing. He couldn't remember anything else.

He put his hands over his face, felt a wave of fear and grief, made himself push it back. He dropped his hands to the table, looked back to Castiel's placid gaze. "Tell me what happened. Please."

Castiel nodded. He walked over and pulled himself up to sit on the kitchen counter. Any other time, Dean would have found it funny that an angel was perched on Bobby's countertop, but right now, it was all he could do to not grab him by his damned lapels and shake the answers out of him.

"After you said 'yes,' Sam did as you asked. He let Zachariah put him in a safe house, I suppose you'd call it. He was going to wait it out, because he said that's what you had wanted, and if he couldn't be useful, at least he'd stay out of the way. Unfortunately, one of Zachariah's brothers had been turned by Lucifer, and gave Sam up. Took him right to Lucifer's feet. I don't think you need me to tell you what occurred after that."

Dean felt his stomach move up his throat. "Torture."

Castiel nodded. "Yes."

Dean swallowed down the rising nausea. He cleared his throat. When he was relatively certain he wouldn't hurl, he cleared his dry throat. "How long?"

Castiel looked down at his hands. Bobby was sitting with his chin in his hand and his gaze on the floor. Neither one answered. Dean's question came out more like a sob. "Fuckin' _how long?!_"

Castiel's voice came softly. "57 hours."

Dean closed his eyes, felt a wave of black reaching for him. _Screw that. I am not going to swoon. _He grabbed the edge of the table and dug his nails into the surface, grounding himself in the slight sting. "My brother was tortured by Lucifer for 57 hours…"

He would have stood up to pace, but his legs were jelly. His head pounded and his stomach rebelled. He just tried to keep breathing.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Dean, he didn't let him in. Sam didn't break."

Dean didn't open his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I know he didn't."

Silence filled the small kitchen while Dean tried to keep from either passing out or throwing up. Finally, he felt like he could talk. "So, did you bury him?"

Castiel's voice, as calm as ever. "Sam isn't dead, Dean."

Dean's eyes popped open. "What? What!? Couldn't we have _started_ with that? Jesus Christ…" He sat back in his chair, felt like he could breath again. "So, where is he?"

Bobby sighed. "We don't know."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, _come on!_ What do you mean, 'you don't know.' The kid must have needed a hospital. Who took him?"

Castiel finally looked away, down at the floor. "Many things were happening, Dean. When Michael smote Lucifer, the angels and demons went after each other for a few days. Michael took you to Zachariah, departed from your body. You were not in good shape. Zachariah was mostly concerned with rounding up the angels and celebrating his victory. He summoned me to come get you, and I took you here. When I was finally told where to find Sam, almost a week had passed. Sam was no longer where Lucifer had left him."

Dean felt his tenuous hold on hope slipping. "So, how do you know he's not dead?"

Bobby stood up, refilled his coffee. "He called me three days ago, wanted to know if I knew where you were. I told him you were here, and to get his ass here pronto." He gave a glare to Castiel. "I didn't know about the torture. I had assumed he was with your pal Zach all this time." He looked back over to Dean. "He asked if you were okay. I told him I thought you were intact, just wrung out. He said that was good, he was glad Michael had kept his word. I told him to get here as soon as he could. He said he didn't thing that was a good idea. Told me to take care and hung up."

Dean looked between them, didn't really know what to say. "That's it? And neither one of you tried to find him?"

Bobby sighed. "Don't think he wants to be found, Dean. After everything he's been through, kind felt like he's earned making his own choices."

Dean couldn't quite fathom what he was learning here. Sam wanted to stay away? Was this another bid for independence? _Another_ way to tell Dean that he just wasn't important to him anymore?

_Jesus, Dean, stop with the drama. Sam isn't punishing you. He's hurt and hiding. But, why?_

Dean drained his water glass, and stood up. "Well, Sam can say whatever he wants. I'm gonna find him."

Castiel sild off the counter. "There's something else you should probably know."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You know, you suck at exposition. Just say everything at once, will ya?"

Cas shrugged. "It's possible that an angel healed Sam of his injuries."

Dean's brows went north. "It's possible? What does that mean?"

"It's been hard to get reliable information in the past week. Angels are going back to heaven, some are staying behind. Things are scattered. But, I did hear from Gabriel. He said that 'Sam got a do-over, and you're welcome.'"

Dean waited. "That's it? That's the message?"

Castiel just looked at him.

Dean sighed. He walked out of the kitchen, forming a plan in his mind. Sam would probably go someplace familiar to hole up. Someplace he thought Dean wouldn't know_. Has to be near Stanford, right? _He'd think Dean didn't know anything about his life there. Except that Dean had spied on him enough to know his favorite places. Even knew about the cabin Jessica's family had in the mountains near Sebastopol. It was as good a place as any to start.

Castiel followed him into the living room. "Dean. Perhaps this time you should let Sam alone."

Dean turned to look at him. "Cas, I need to see that he's okay. After everything, after…hell, just _everything _I can't just leave him to deal with everything by himself." He heard Bobby's phone ring in the kitchen. He opened his mouth to tell Castiel why he was going to go regardless of what Sam said he wanted. But, there was something about the silence after Bobby said 'hello,' that made him rush into the kitchen.

Bobby looked up at Dean while he listened to whatever was being said to him on the phone, and Dean knew. He just _knew. _He marched over to Bobby, took the phone out of his hand. "Sam?"

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_Sam was hanging there, his arms wrapped in chains. His right wrist had already snapped. The pain had kind of numbed out. He tried to keep his breaths even, so Lucifer wouldn't hear his fear. _This is doable.You're buying Dean time. Suck it the fuck up, Sam…_Lucifer had tried for a few hours to talk him into saying 'yes.' So far, just punching, and the tightening and pulling of the chains. _

"_Sam, let's be realistic. What have you got to live for, really? There's no one who loves you. No one who will miss you." He'd smiled an impish smile. "That's pretty remarkable, really. 27 years on this planet, and nothing to show for it."_

_Sam had grit his teeth against the pain in his arms, the throbbing of his wrist. He hadn't answered. Tried to block out the softly spoken words._

_Lucifer sighed. "Even your brother is through with you. I mean, yeah, he used to think you were the bomb, Sammy. But, the last couple of years? I think you did a pretty good job of killing that off, don't you?"_

_Sam didn't answer. He kind of thought Lucifer was right, though. _

"_No, Sam. You've really done a shit job of living your life. I mean, you humans put such a premium on love. It's the be all and end all of your existence, isn't it? But, you? You can't give it, and no one seems to want to give it to you, either. It's just sad, really…"_

_It had gone like that for a while. And, as much as Sam wanted to be immune to the gently devastating words, he couldn't deny that they were mostly true. Maybe he really didn't know how to love anyone. He'd thought he'd had it with Jessica. But, thinking about it as he hung there in chains he realized Jessica had just decided to love him. She said she'd just seen him, trying to read a textbook while walking across campus, and THUD. She'd fallen for him. He hadn't done anything to earn it or inspire it. And how had he loved her in return? He'd lied to her, almost from the get go. He'd created a Sam Winchester that fit into what was 'normal.' He'd hidden all the things that were real about himself. And, he'd called it love. So, yeah, maybe Lucifer was right…_

_And, he'd thought he'd loved Dean. Dean, who had practically raised him. Watched over him, protected him. But, Sam had screwed that up, too. He'd betrayed Dean's trust. He'd let him down over and over again. He hadn't meant to, it was just, that was what Sam did. If you loved Sam Winchester, look out. Cause he was going to hurt you sooner or later. Or, you know, get you killed._

_Lucifer came back into the pool of light that Sam hung under. He had a thin, short-bladed knife in his hand. 'Here we go,' Sam thought._

*****

Dean held the phone to his ear and waited. Finally, he heard a familiar, exasperated breath. A long pause. "Hey, Dean. Um, how are you feeling?"

Dean told himself not to be mad. Not to be frickin' _gutted _that Sam was pulling this crap again. He breathed in a long, steady breath. "I'm okay. You?"

"I'm fine. You feelin' yourself again? No damage from Michael?"

Something was off. Sam sounded tired. His voice was hoarse, soft. _Like maybe he'd been screaming for a couple of days? _ He wanted to know if Sam was really alright. Knew he wouldn't get any answer except, 'fine.' He'd been with Lucifer for over two days. How the hell could he be 'fine?' _Tell me what's going through your freakish head, Sam. _But, they were Winchesters, and that was pretty unlikely. _Don't call the kettle black, Dean. _ "I'm fine, Sam. Michael came, he saw, he conquered. Then, he moved out, lock, stock and barrel. I, ah…I know you didn't have it so easy, huh?"

Dean barely registered Bobby leaving the kitchen. He sat at the table. "Sam?"

He could almost see Sam nodding at his words. "Yeah, well…Everything worked out in the end, though, right?"

Dean closed his eyes. Had to ask. "Are you okay? I heard you got healed?"

Sam gave a soft laugh. "Our old friend Gabriel. Said he didn't want to lose one of his favorite prank victims."

_Sam remembered dying this time. The other times he had died, it had been quick. A knife, a flash of lightening, a gunshot, stake to the gut. But, this…this had been dying by degrees. And, he'd actually welcomed it. Longed for it, really, by the end. He remembered the fire in his belly, the pain that shot through his system, finding no release, no outlet, just fire and ice and agony. Lucifer had been yammering at him the whole time, but Sam had finally been able to block him out. He wasn't going to say 'yes.' He kept up a mantra in his head, 'Dean lasted 30 years…Dean lasted 30 years…' And it kept him focused enough to know where he was, what he was saying. Or, _not_ saying. _

_And then, blessed blackness had beckoned. He'd felt a stab of regret that he wasn't going to have a chance to settle things with Dean. Tell him something like, 'thanks for being my brother…thanks for being such a god damned hero, at every cost to yourself…thanks for not killing me when dad asked you to'…_something_. But, maybe this was better. Dean would get a chance to live without Sam hanging around his neck like a damned lead weight. One of his last thoughts was, 'Dean will finally be free…'_

_And he'd felt the embrace of death._

_The next thing he'd known, Gabriel was standing over him as he lay on the floor. Sam had opened his eyes, and Gabriel had given him a sardonic smile. "Death does not look good on you, kid."_

_Sam had realized that he wasn't in heaven. He was alive, on the floor, the chains that had held him hung empty above him. And, he'd felt regret immediately. "No, no, no…let me go. Please. Just, let me die and be done with it."_

_Gabriel had laughed. "Wow. You can really bring the melodrama, huh? Sorry, Sammy. Your guts are all back where they belong and you are getting a second chance. Or, wait, is it a fifth or sixth chance?"_

_Sam had felt a sob rising in his chest. He didn't want this. He didn't want to start breathing again, just to have a chance to screw it all up in some new way. "Please, just…no."_

_Gabriel had cocked his head, looked at Sam with curiosity. "Come on, Sam. What's so bad, huh? The apocalypse is back in the cupboard. You and your brother did good. For once. Go forth and prosper."_

_Sam closed his eyes. Even though his body was healed, he felt more tired, more defeated, than he had ever felt in his life. When he'd opened his eyes again, he was in his clothes, all healed up and good as new. Gabriel was gone._

Dean's voice pulled him back to the present. "That's good. That trickster asshole finally did something non-dickish. So, yeah, um, that's really good."

Silence.

Dean cleared his throat. "Um. Why aren't you here, Sammy? What's going on?"

He heard shuffling over the line, then Sam let out a breath. He was probably settling on the bed, getting comfortable. "Dean, I just think…I think you're better off without me for a while."

Dean gusted out a breath. _Here we go…_"Really. This is for _my _benefit? Come on, Sam. Just say what you mean. You don't want to be here. With me. Don't pretend this is somehow for my benefit when it's just the typical Sam Winchester selfish asshole behavior, leaving his family in the lurch, again…" Dean stopped himself. _Not helping, Dean._

Then, after a long silence, Sam said. "So, um, I'll call and check in in a couple of weeks, okay? Or, months, or whatever works. Okay?"

Dean heard it then, in Sam's voice. He wasn't being selfish. He was _broken._ He thought he was doing Dean a favor. _Torture. Remember how that felt? Shut up and give the kid a break. _"Sam, wait. Sorry. I'm…sorry. Just talk to me, hmm? What's going on?"

There was silence while Sam gathered his thoughts. His voice, when it came, was still soft, careful. "It's just…I feel like, for most of my life, without really meaning to, I just…I've let you down. I don't think I really know how to be what you want me to be. How to be the brother that you need, you know? And, maybe…maybe you just deserve a break."

Dean's pulse sped up. _Oh, Jesus. _"Sam, would you please, just get your ass to Bobby's and we can work on whatever Oprah issues you have."

"Remember when we went to heaven?"

Dean sighed. He was afraid he knew where this was going. "Yeah, Sam. I remember."

Sam's rough, sad voice came after a long moment. "You thought all my good memories were times when I got away from my family. Got away from _you_. And, I know it hurt you, that I didn't, that I _don't _ look at our family, our growing up, the same way you do."

Dean sighed. Were they really going to have to go there? "Sam, I know you needed to get away from dad. I don't blame you for that. I just, I thought maybe you'd be a little less rah-rah about leaving me, too."

"Yeah, I know you did. And I was. But, that still didn't make me stay. Dean, I just feel like…since the night that I left for Stanford, all I've done is disappoint you. Hurt you. And, I never intend to, but, I just kept doing it." Sam let out a long breath. "Don't you think it's enough, Dean? Don't you think you've done enough? Earned a break? Cause, I do."

"Sam, why do we have to re-hash this now? Just---"

"Because, Dean. Because you need family. And, I kind of suck at being family. You make practically everyone we meet more than once into family. I don't. I've never really felt the same way about making…bonds with people. But, you're actually kind of great at it. So, maybe, you need some space to find people that appreciate that."

Dean felt his throat tighten. "Sam, _you _are my family. You know that. And, however screwed up dad was, I always tried to make sure you---"

"Dean, I know you did. You're the reason I'm sane, for God's sake. You were great to me, but I think not even you could fix what was missing. Maybe my 'family' gene never really developed. I don't know. " He sucked in a loud sigh, gave a soft laugh. "Jesus. All of that to say, now that all the urgent shit has passed, you can take the time to finally make your own family. You deserve that. And, you won't do it if I'm sitting next to you in the Impala and sharing life on the road. You just won't."

Dean tried to understand, through the fear and anger, the confusion of Sam's words, he really tried to reach for the thread of what Sam was getting at. Because it felt like the same old crap. He would try, though, because Sam didn't sound angry or petulant or bratty. He sounded sad and tired and shut down. "So, by you abandoning me this time, I will find true happiness in the other family that I will find? Is that what you're saying?"

Sam was quiet for a few moments. "Dean, you find family easy as breathing. For all the shit dad pulled, you never stopped loving him, trying to help him, trying to make him happy. You did the same for me, when I let you. Bobby, Jo and Ellen? Even Pamela and Ash and all the other random people we've met. We see them more than once, and you're grafting them onto the family tree. Jesus, you even did it with an angel. It's just, that's who you are---"

"And, so, what? That's a bad thing that you have to punish me for?"

Sam sighed. "No, hell, no. It's a _good _thing. It's a _great _thing. You can make family out of practically thin air. But, I can't. I don't. I hardly know what to do with all these people who treat me with kindness and understanding just because I'm your brother. I just, I feel like maybe it's all wasted on me. I'm not…I'm not good at loving people, you know? I try. I do. But, like Lucifer said, 27 years and no one…Um, anyway. I just, I think you need a chance to really build something with someone who isn't me. Someone who will appreciate it and give you back what you need."

_Lucifer said? Oh, Jesus, Sammy, it wasn't just your body he broke, huh? _And all the fight went out of Dean. He remembered the feeling of being broken. Being convinced of every horrible thing they could throw at you. _'Your brother is better off without you…' 'Your father is ashamed of you, Dean…' 'No one even misses you on earth.'_ He tried to stay focused on what Sam was saying. His voice was having trouble getting past the constriction in his throat. "You think you don't give me anything back?"

"I used to believe I did. I used to think that it was enough that we were brothers. That we always had each other's backs, no matter what came at us. I guess I thought, even if you didn't agree with me, you understood where I was coming from." He paused, searched for the right words. "But, after the whole heaven thing, I saw that maybe you didn't. Because, when I was leaving for school, I was kind of fighting for my life. I was trying to get out from everything I had hated about life with dad. But, you took it as me leaving _you_. And I wasn't. I mean, you were my _brother…" _Sam's voice broke, but he cleared his throat and went on. "But, then, you stopped talking to me. And, I thought you were just mad that I'd left hunting. Left Dad and you holding the bag. I didn't realize that my leaving _hurt _you. And _that _was why you stopped calling me. So, yeah, I've made a lot of mistakes like that. I've sort of excelled at putting all this distance between us, and I don't really know why---"

He stopped talking, and Dean was kind of riveted. Sam was really laying it out there. But, was it fair that he was blaming himself for all the distance between them? Dean would love to let him think that, to absolve himself from any part in it. But, if Sam could own all his crap, how could Dean do less? "Sam, I'm hardly the perfect brother, here. I resented you for a lot of shit that I never tried to work out. Took out a lot of my frustrations on you, 'cause you were damn handy. You say I make family like riding a bike. I'm not sure that's true. Yeah, I need people, I guess. But, you…" How could he explain it so Sam would understand?

Sam laughed softly, sadly. "Yeah…me. Dean, we have a chance to breathe, now. You held off the apocalypse, for Christ's sake. Now, you don't _have_ to do anything. You don't have to cart me around out of obligation or duty, or whatever."

_Lucifer slid the knife between his ribs and yanked upward. Sam screamed, but he didn't have any shame about that anymore. Lucifer leaned in, and, even through the white heat of pain, Sam smelled the rotting flesh, the slightly sulfuric stench that emanated from the fallen angel. "Sam, just call a spade a spade. Your brother tolerates you because no one else will. You think he'd cart you around if he had a choice? Why would he? Because of your sparkling personality and sunny wit? Please. You're like a dark cloud of doom and gloom that pulls him down every second you breathe…"_

_Sam shook his head. Or, at least, he _thought _he shook his head. "You're wrong. Dean is my brother." To Sam, that said it all. _

_Lucifer laughed. Pulled the knife out, then ran it up Sam's side, just enough to cut the skin and scrape the ribs. "Michael is my brother, and he's moving heaven and hell to kill me. Being brothers doesn't mean squat, Sammy. Believe me."_

Dean couldn't answer. He felt a kind of humming tension running through him. Because, Sam wasn't trying to accuse him, or wound him, he was trying to set Dean free.

And, Dean could get where Sam had read enough signs to think that's what Dean wanted. He'd pushed Sam away plenty, even when he'd tried to reconnect them. Since heaven, since Dean had tossed the amulet in the trash, Dean had _wanted _to let Sam know that he was done. _See? You hurt me, and I can hurt you back. _Dean thought Sam just hadn't loved him enough. Certainly, not as much as Dean had loved him.

Because Dean had thought he'd shown Sam love. He'd always looked out for him, tried to protect him. Sam had been the center of his world. But, he also teased and mocked and punched and wrestled, and generally let Sam know he was Dean's very own pain the ass. He'd assumed when he told Sam to shut up because he'd said something stupid, or that he would 'end him' if he told dad something nefarious Dean had done, Sam would know that, at the bottom of all of that, was love.

So, here was Dean thinking he'd been all heroic, loving his little brother more than anything or anyone in his life. But, maybe, from Sam's point of view, he was just a big brother, making him to do whatever dad wanted. The only times Dean had really coddled him was when he was sick. He'd 'let' Sam share his bed. He'd bitched about making him soup, and told him what a pain in the ass he was with his fever and his coughing, or by bleeding all over the place. But, inside, he'd been a nervous wreck, unable to sleep until the fever went down, or the coughing calmed, or the wound showed no signs of infection.

So, maybe, what had been in his heart hadn't translated so well to a motherless kid with a drill sergeant for a father and mouthy older brother, and nothing else to go on.

In the past year, hell, the past few years, when Sam had been struggling with something, and God, pick any card – the demon blood surprise, Dean's deal, Ruby's manipulation, letting Lucifer out – Dean had continued to tell him to either get over it or stuff it down. Because, really? They had bigger problems. And, they really _had_ had bigger problems. There just wasn't room to deal with all this before. But, now? Now, Sam wanted to let him go so he could find a new, _better_ family? _Yeah, screw that._

In the long silence while Dean thought about all this, Sam stayed silent. Dean pictured him lying on the motel bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening with that stillness that Sam could do so well. Finally, Dean drew in a long breath.

"Sam, I know I've been kind of a dick about some things, but---"

Sam laughed tiredly. "Dean, you haven't been a dick. You've been…well, you've been saving the world and dealing with shit that would have broken any other person on the planet. You deserve a reward for that. Because no one else may know what you did, but I do. And, I think you have a chance, now, to go find what you've always wanted. And, I want you to do that. This isn't about punishing you. I just want you to be free, you know? Enough with the obligations and the sacrifices. Just, get out there and live, man."

Dean rubbed his hand down his face. Maybe there was a part of him that wanted to do exactly as Sam said. He did want to be free of all this evil, painful, scary crap that they'd been living with for years. But, did he want to be on his own? Did he want to be free of Sam? Maybe, a little bit. At least, as an idea. Because his brother was a whole lot of issues to deal with, no lie. And, honestly? Dean was always going to have trouble with the idea that Sam didn't seem to need him the way Dean needed Sam.

Sam's voice came again. "Dean, you know I would die for you, right? This isn't me washing my hands of you, or telling you that you don't matter to me. This is me saying I want you to be happy. And, I know I don't make you happy." He laughed again. "Like, at all."

_Wow. _Dean didn't know what to say to that, either. _Happy? _That was a concept that Dean hadn't felt in so long, it was hard to remember what it felt like. But, he didn't think that was Sam's doing. It was just life, and the way it had unfolded the past few years. Always something to distract, to take him from enjoying what he was doing, who he was doing it with, always with the: red alert! Catastrophe at 2:00!

Dean leaned back in the rickety chair at Bobby's kitchen table and thought about what might make him happy. What the hell would it take to make Dean Winchester happy?

Sam cleared his throat. "Dean, I'm gonna go, okay? I'll check in with you in a few weeks."

And, Dean knew with sudden and solid certainty that Sam being gone was not going to be part of his whole 'make Dean happy' plan. "No."

Sam sighed. "No? No you don't want me to check back in a few weeks?"

Dean sighed right back. "No, asshat. That whole 'you staying away' thing is not going to work for me."

"Dean…"

Dean fought himself to get the words out. He had to do this, or Sam wouldn't understand. He'd done the 'devastatingly sarcastic one liners' until his brother thought he didn't want anything to do with him. He'd kept silent, hoping all this crap would blow the hell over when the apocalypse was resolved. But, nope. Here was Sam, his 'never do what I want' brother, making him say it out loud. "What I want, Sam, is a trip to Mexico for three weeks of sun and beer and chicks. I want all the evil shit in the world to leave us the hell alone, because we've done our part in making things right again. I want Mom and Dad and Ellen and Jo to be alive and having a friggin' picnic in the backyard. But that's just shit, because what I can _have_? What can I really have that's going to balance out all the crap, even a little bit? I want you here, with me. I want to see how we are when we're not getting two hours of sleep and driving 18 hours a day. I want to process the last little while with someone who actually lived through it, all of it, by my side. And, Sam, you were." _Well, there was that one night, when I called you monster and you went off with Ruby._ "Okay, there were a few exceptions. But, in the face of all the crap we have dealt with, and the screwed up issues between us, you stayed. We can't change the past, or how it made us into who we are. But, we can appreciate the present. I couldn't have done any of this by myself. And, that counts for everything. You're my brother. Hell, you're my best friend. And, you need to get your ass home."

Sam didn't answer for a long time, but Dean could hear him breathing. Knew he was processing not only Dean's words, but all that had happened between them for who knows how far back. And, there was a hell of a lot to process. "Dean, all of this just happened. Maybe you want to take some time to really figure out what it is---"

But Dean was done with the angst and the sadness and the licking of wounds. He wanted this. He was going to have it. "Sam, stop. Jesus, your self-esteem really needs a kick start, huh? Listen, you are my brother. My family. You say you understand what that means to me in one breath, while you say 'sayonara' in the next? Come on, dude. Don't make me beg, here."

"I just, I want you to be sure---"

Dean had to laugh. They could do this. They were frigging Sam and Dean Winchester. They'd finally _won_ something. Dean just had to make sure Sam got that they'd done it together. _Lucifer, if you weren't already gone, I'd tear you open myself. _"Sam, come on. Who else could possibly understand the shit we've been through? Hmm? You think I'm going to go to a diner and strike up a 'hey, did you know I was possessed by an angel to stop the apocalypse?' conversation. Or, 'what if I told you I'd died and come back? Not once, but several times?'"

Sam laughed softly. "Yeah. We're kind of an exclusive club. 'Hi, I'm Sam. I've got demon blood, how are you?'"

Dean smiled. "'I'm Dean. I'm an Aquarius and I've been to hell _and_ heaven. Hell was way worse…'"

Sam snorted. "'I shot my brother while possessed by a demon. You?'"

Dean felt his heart ease as his smile widened. "'Ever had God put you on a crowded airplane? Totally weird.'"

Sam laughed. "'Lucifer tortured me for a couple of days and then an angel healed me. That's a funky thing, huh?'"

Dean felt the levity evaporate. He cleared his throat. "Sam, I'm so sorry about that."

Sam paused, "Yeah. It kinda sucked. But, wasn't your fault, Dean. Nothing that happened to me, in the last few years, was your fault. You know?"

Dean knew that Sam meant that. But, he couldn't quite agree with him. Maybe it wasn't his fault, but, he couldn't help that he still felt _responsible _for Sam. Hell. He would probably feel the same way when they were grumpy old men, if they lived that long. He spoke quietly in return, "None of it was your fault, either."

Sam 'hmmm'ed. But stayed quiet.

Dean waited a bit, then went ahead. "So, Sam, will you come home?"

"You know, you don't have to say that."

"Oh, for fuck's sake….I'm not saying it because I have to, you giant girl. I'm saying it because I want you to come the hell home."

He hung in the balance until Sam finally answered. "Yeah. Okay, if you're sure that's what you really want."

"Okay, now you're just fishing for complements. Jesus."

Sam sighed a soft laugh. "You sure you're okay?"

Dean thought about it. Letting Michael in…it had felt like a low point. But, finally getting rid of Lucifer, Sam and Bobby and even Cas still with him? Yeah. He was okay. Really. "I'm good. See you tomorrow?"

Sam said, "Maybe day after?"

Dean nodded. "You in Sebastopol?"

There was a long pause. "How the hell did you know that?"

Dean scoffed. "Please, bitch. I know you."

"Yeah. You really do."

"See you soon."

"Okay. Bye, Dean."

"Bye, Sam."

The End


End file.
